Kind Spirit
by Valkyrie Shepherd
Summary: Naomi Trevelyan thinks she finally has the evening to herself when Cole knocks on her door. He's recently become more human, but some things still baffle him. Like what it means to get sick. Can the emotionally guarded mage help the boy out without him revealing her deepest pain? Answer: Probably not. Cole and Mage Trevelyan friendhship drabble. One shot.


****here we have a short(ish) one-shot inspired loosely by: /works/3241286  
and also because there is not enough Cole drabble out there! :D

Those of you who are reading my long fic "The New Ways of Old Gods" (welcome) know that Astlyr and Cole have an interesting and more matured relationship. I wanted to explore one that was less, well, confident in itself. So I'm using one of my other Inquisitors, Naomi. It seemed perfect timing since I just finished Cole's personal quest with her and made him more human. But what happens next? Read on, gentle reader.****

**Kind Spirit**

Naomi squinted as the words on the page swam before her eyes. Elvish was a tricky language, and, though Solas was teaching her to the best of his ability, sometimes she could swear that the letters moved around of their own accord. That was magical writing for you. The elves knew far more about magic than the circle had ever taught her, and what they had managed to write down was quite instructional. She rubbed the bridge of her pronounced nose between thumb and forefinger, then blinked and tried to focus again on her reading. Her room was dim, the sun having long since quit the sky, but she found that night in Skyhold was best time to have a moment to herself. Reclusive by nature she loathed the daily cries of "Inquisitor, have a look at these trade documents!" or "Inquisitor, we have news of another loose pet somewhere in the Hinterlands, could you go find it?" or "Inquisitor, someone's just ripped a cracking great hole in the sky! Patch that up if it isn't too much trouble."

Naomi sighed, setting aside the first loose page. Extending her hand she coaxed her waning fire back to life with her magic. Her father would have been furious. Such a frivolous use of her gift. Well, he could be pleased with her now, certainly. Her new title and station were more than what he could have dreamed for his mage child. Previously the source of no small shame for the wealthy family who had hoped she would marry adventitiously.

At first she did not hear the knock on her door. It was so soft she thought it the natural sounds of the fortress settling around her. Then it came again and she raised her head, trying not to let an annoyed groan escape her lips. Josie knew to leave her alone at this time of night, didn't she? The mage stood and crossed the room, opening her door with what she hoped was a friendly expression. "Cole? What are you doing here?" She hadn't meant it to sound rude, but there was an edge to her voice she wasn't proud of.

The boy stood in her doorway with shoulders hunched, looking deeply sad, which was permanent expression for him. He wrung his hands looking up at her through pale lashes. "You told me I was to come to you if I had questions about...about being human."

Naomi rocked back on her heels and gritted her teeth. A week before she and Varric had helped Cole to become more human than spirit, to protect him from being corrupted by man or demon. Since then he had had many questions, ranging of simple to complex, about this thing called humanity. Naomi did her best to answer, as did Varric, and it seemed as though Cole was finally get the hang of it. Now here he was, at her door in the middle of the night. Damn.

He must have sensed her unease, "I would have asked Varric, but he was asleep and I saw your candle and-"

"It's alright Cole," she stayed his words with a hand before he could get into a full ramble. "I'm here to help you. What seems to be the trouble this time?"

"I..." he hesitated, as though at a loss for how to describe it. "I feel wrong," he said, hanging his head, his hat obscuring his face completely. "I hurt. All over. My head more than anything. I can't get warm. I know when you're cold you're supposed to get under blankets, and I tried, but it didn't help."

Naomi fixed him with a searching stare, wishing she could see his face. "Come in then, and I'll try to figure out what is going on," she said stepping aside to let the boy past her. He stood just inside her door, uncertain, hugging himself. He was shivering, she noticed now. She hurried to her large, high backed chair beside the fire and shuffled her papers out of the way, indicating that he should sit.

Cole slowly crossed the room and folded himself into her chair. He looked so small against the red velvet. It was strange to think that the boy huddled there was the same one who could ruthlessly kill an enemy with speed and efficiency. Tonight he seemed distracted, tense. "You may take your hat off. You're indoors after all," she said, recalling that she had intended to teach the boy manners at some point. Perhaps after he had mastered eating soup, she thought with a low chuckle at the memory. That lesson had been a messy one.

Cole removed the great, unusual hat, setting it carefully on the floor beside the chair, then pulled his arm back in. She saw that he was sitting all tucked up, hugging his legs with slender arms, and trembling. She moved to him and squatted before the chair, searching his pale face. "Are you wounded, Cole?" she asked.

"I don't think so," he mumbled. Then coughed. A phlegmy, unhealthy sound.

Naomi reached up, brushing his pale hair away with her fingertips and touching his forehead. "Oh, Cole," she sighed, "You're ill. You have a fever."

"I do?" he asked and planted a hand on his own forehead experimentally. "I've never had one before."

"You've helped people when they've had fevers haven't you?" Naomi asked, her brows coming together with concern. "Wouldn't you know what one was when you had it?"

"I don't feel what others are feeling," Cole clarified, squeezing his knees tighter, "I know that they are feeling it, so I can help. It's more like a reflection. The same image, but none of the power."

"Did you go out yesterday?" Naomi asked, moving to her bed and pulling her favorite quilt from it.

"Yes. The healers wanted some herbs so I went to gather them."

"And did you wear the winter cloak Varric got you?" She crossed the room and spread the blanket over the small, huddled figure on her chair.

"Yes...for a while. But some of the plants were difficult to reach and I had to take the cloak off."

Naomi rolled her eyes. "Did you put it back on?"

Cole avoided her eyes, sensing her annoyance, no doubt, "no," he admitted as she tucked the blanket in around him.

"Cole, we have explained cold to you. How important it is to stay warm."

"Cold is an interesting sensation," the boy said, meeting her dark eyes for the first time. His were grey-blue, like an angry sky before a snow. "I like new sensations."

"Well that interesting sensation has made you sick," Naomi sighed, crouching before him again, and eying him uncertainly.

"I don't like this kind of cold," the boy shuddered, "the kind that won't go away. It goes all the way inside me. Like a vein of ice splitting rock."

"Wouldn't you like to go to the healers?" She had little experience with ill people and felt woefully uncertain.

Cole shrugged, "If you think it would be best. I like it when you help me." He looked down at the quilt she had spread over him, as though noticing it for the first time. "This was your mother's. Her mother's mother made it. She gave it to you the night before you left for the circle. You weren't allowed to take it with you. You cried on it. Right there," he pointed to a spot on the blanket. There was no mark, but she knew he was right. She knew she had sobbed when she had been told she would be taken from her family forever.

Naomi sighed, sitting down on the floor beside the fire, near the boy on her chair. She watched the flames dance. "Yes," she said. "My mother had it sent to me here, now that I am established at Skyhold."

"She worries about you," Cole said, his voice sounded huskier. She glanced sideways at him. Maker but he did look unwell. That said, he usually didn't appear healthy, but tonight he was worse than usual. His eyes seemed to have a lost look, instead of their accustomed laser focus, seeking out other people's pain. Since he had become human he had pain of his own to contend with. Sometimes she wondered if she had made the right decision in helping him make that change. She had to admire him for a moment. For someone being ill the first time in their life, he was handling it with remarkably little complaint.

"You were ill when you first came to the circle," Cole said, gently rubbing the blanket between his fingers. "Cold walls feeling like they are closing in. The templars scold me. No one tucks me in at night. No one sings." Naomi felt her heart twinge. Her mother had always sung her to sleep. "I am afraid the others can hear me cry," the boy went on, speaking in the hushed, rapid way he always did when he was reading someone's pain.

"Cole," she stopped him, putting her hands on top of his for emphasis, "Please don't do that."

"But want to help you," he said, looking up. "You're sad."

"I know. Lot's of people are sad...your hands are freezing," she stopped, taking his slender hands between her own, she blew on them and then rubbed them vigorously. His pale skin was a striking contrast against her own chocolate complexion.

"You were the smallest in the circle," Cole pressed on, allowing her to fuss over his hands.

Naomi made an annoyed sound, but decided just to let him go on. Whatever the boy could fish from her memories, at least it was only between the two of them. She tucked his hands back under the quilt. "Yes. I came into my powers very young. I was the youngest in my year."

"A little dark girl all alone in an endless tower. The children know she's a noble and they're worried she'll be spoiled and cruel. But you weren't spoiled. You were afraid." He met her eyes as she knelt before him, beginning to lose herself in the memories he was finding.

"Of course I was," Naomi said, perhaps a bit too harshly. "I was the youngest in a strange place with strange people. I stressed myself out so much about it I got sick all the time." She recalled those days with glum clarity. Always feeling poorly did nothing to improve her popularity with the other children. A dripping nose ingratiated you to no one.

"But someone took care of you," Cole had to tilt his head slightly to meet her downcast gaze.

"One of the tranquil. His name was Caleb. He was kind to me. I'm not certain why. Tranquil have no emotions. Perhaps he was instructed to watch over me."

Cole began to cough, his lean body rocked forward as he hugged his chest. Naomi sat up, reaching out to awkwardly rub his back, "Whoa whoa, hang on, Cole," she soothed. Then she stood and crossed the room to the cold tea she had forgotten on her table. She warmed a cup of it with her gift, then strode back to the boy, handing him the drink. He sipped gingerly.

"It should be willow bark. That would bring your fever down," Naomi mumbled, gripping her elbows. "This is just mint, but it will sooth the coughing."

Cole sipped again. His coughing subsided he peered at her over the top of the steaming cup, "I like it. Thank you," he said, breathily.

He looked so pathetic, huddled in her chair. Hardly the deadly young assassin she knew in battle. His slender hands gripped the teacup rather than twin blades of steel. Such a contrast that it was difficult to reconcile them as the same person. "Did you eat today, Cole?" she asked.

"I had supper with he cat," he answered as he took another delicate sip.

Naomi stifled an annoyed groan. He was forever doing this sort of thing. "And what did you and the cat have?"

"The cat had fish, and a bit of cheese, though it gives her gas," Cole recalled, casting pale eyes towards the ceiling. "I had a bit of cooked fish, and some of her cheese, plus the cook gave me a slice of apple and cinnamon pie. I liked that very much."

"You know, you could eat with your friends," Naomi pointed out.

"The cat is my friend."

"Of course she is," the mage sighed wearily, rubbing her temple. To be honest she had no idea how to deal with Cole. She was bad with people, she decided, especially people who needed something from her that couldn't be summed up in a battle briefing. "Are you hungry now?"

"Maybe," he answered, seeming to consider this. "I haven't got he hang of telling all the time."

"Here," Naomi stood and crossed the room again, selecting a full plate of shortbread biscuits which had been brought up with her tea. "Let me show you one of the joys of life," she said, smiling for the first time that evening. She warmed herself a cup of tea and sat again at Cole's feet, the plate of biscuits beside her on the floor. The boy watched her with rapt interest. She dipped the sweet into the tea and let it soften before taking a hearty bite. "You try,"

Cole mimicked her and bit into his own biscuit. He chewed, considering for a moment. When he had finished he smiled wanly at her, "Eva taught you."

Naomi's heart sank like a stone in a stream. Of course he would bring up Eva. She had all but forgotten where she had learned to dip her biscuits in her tea. Cole had set aside both tea and sweet. His expression troubled. "What is it?" she asked, unable to keep the worry from her voice. What was she supposed to do?

"I'm wrong tonight," Cole said, not looking at her and turning himself in her chair so he faced the fire and was profile to her. "I'm not helping you. I keep making you remember when you were happy to forget," he exhaled, putting a slim hand to his head. She could tell it was hurting him without him needing to say.

"I'll go get you some willow bark," she began to stand but with almost supernatural speed his hand shot out and grasped hers.

"I don't want to be left alone," he said, in such a small, plaintive tone that Naomi found herself plopping back down to the floor without question. "But you're in pain, Cole. I want to help you." He didn't answer her, but made a quiet whimper, not meeting her eyes. A thought occurred to her. "Don't be afraid, Cole. Lots of people get ill. I used to get sick all the time, remember? You'll be alright. I'm-" she felt deeply awkward as she said it, because what good was she really? "I'll stay right here." Why don't I tell you about my time in the circle. Then it'll be me, wanting to remember."

Cole turned slightly towards her, the firelight doing nothing to make him look more healthy. He gave her a small nod, then put his head back into his hands. Naomi rested her hand on his foot, tucked as it was under the quilt, and began. "You mentioned Eva. How she taught me about one of the greatest joys of life? Well, you probably already know from seeing my memory, but she was an elf. A city elf, actually. She was in my year and we formed a friendship as the two outcasts. When I first came to the tower I was the smallest, but that didn't last long. I grew up like a weed, and strong," she demonstrated by making a muscle with her free arm. "Impressive, at least for a mage," she smirked. She was a tall, for a woman, and solidly built. Those who thought of mages as slender, delicate beings, had clearly never met Naomi Trevelyan. "Of course, children are cruel. When they weren't mocking me for my noble blood they were calling me 'the brute' because I was bigger and tougher than most of my peers."

"You're like your father," Cole said quietly, lifting his head from his hands, clearly beginning to engage with her story.

"Yes," Naomi agreed. "He was always the biggest of his brothers. Anyway, Eva didn't care. She liked to study with me, and we were both good at fire magic. I called her Firefly because she was small and quick and always had a flame glowing in her hand."

"But Eva..." Cole didn't finish, seeing the pained look on Naomi's face.

"Yes. Eva died. Eva was a fire mage, but unlike me she was gentle. She was forever rescuing spiders for being squished and once she liberated a whole batch of rats we were supposed to be practicing transformation magic on. It was her softness that got Eva killed in the end," Naomi looked at her hand rested on Cole's foot.

"It was your harrowing day," Cole pressed, but gently.

"She was to go through the harrowing before me. My circle went alphabetically. But...while she was in the Fade she must have met a demon because she...she turned into an abomination and the templars had to kill her. She wasn't strong enough to handle it. She was too gentle. When it was my turn I vowed to myself to find that demon and slay it, but I found nothing. Nothing but a spirit, like you, Cole. It was a small, fierce creature who instructed me to tell the templars that I had faced a demon. Then we had a very interesting chat. It never prodded me for information, or tried to tempt me. We just talked, about philosophy, religion, whatever we wanted, for ages. And then I left the Fade and told the templars just what they wanted to hear. That I faced and bested a demon. I never got avenge Eva."

"That's why you like spirits," Cole interjected, looking as though he had come to a happy revelation. She was pleased to see some of the discomfort melt away from his features. "You had met one before. That's why you trusted me."

"That was one of the reasons," Naomi admitted, smiling.

"You made other friends after Eva," Cole said, his voice still very small. His words were for her alone and she found she liked the intimacy of it. As though she were important for some other reason than a mark on her hand.

"Yes. I had other friends, though none as close as Eva."

"You closed yourself off. Protected your heart like a pearl. You'll be taken from the ones you love. Or they'll be snatched from you. Love isn't permanent. Always prepare to let everyone go." Cole's voice was hurried again. Feeling her pain.

"Hey," she mock-scolded, "Who is telling this story?"

He pretended to look admonished, "But you did love."

"I suppose," Naomi felt a blush inch towards her cheeks. She shook her head as though freeing cobwebs from her thoughts, "The templars in Ostwick circle were suspicious of us," she tucked up her own legs now, almost mimicking Cole's huddled position. But there was one templar. Younger than me by a year. A transfer from another circle, he hadn't been taught to be cold towards us. His name was Avery and he became my friend. My-" she cleared her throat, "my close friend."

"You had sex," said Cole.

She spluttered, somewhere between a laugh and a surprised cough. Sometimes she forgot how blunt the boy could be. Still, she chuckled, "Yes. Avery became my...suitor? I think that's the word I'm supposed to use. As a noble."

"Because of him you knew that not all templars were cruel," the boy filled in. He had turned his body back towards her, a more open expression on his wan features. "Because of him you let Cullen-"

"Yes," she put in hurriedly before he recounted her last liaison with the handsome military leader. "I think remembering Avery helped me to trust Cullen."

"But the other templars turned on you," Cole coughed again, clasping a fine-boned hand over his mouth. His skin was so pale she thought she could see his veins. She re-warmed his tea and gave it back to him. He struggled to take a few sips, still coughing. She placed a concerned hand on his back, feeling his sharp spine and ribs as his back rounded against the coughing. Now that he was human they would have to get some weight on him she thought. When he finished the fit he gave her a thin smile, "I don't think I like being ill."

Naomi let out a small huff of a laugh, "not many people do."

"Will you finish your story?" he asked.

"If you drink your tea," she promised, tucking the quilt back into place around his slender, shivering frame.

The boy nodded, putting his lips to the cup's rim, but watching her with his sad, pale eyes.

"Alright. Well, as you said, the templars turned on us. Our circle didn't rebel, but we heard the news of of other circles doing so. Certainly there was unhappiness at Ostwick, but we were well policed by our templars. We didn't believe we had a chance against them. Our templars must have. They turned on us, declaring us too dangerous to live."

"A sword strikes down. My teacher, Mea, stops it with her ice magic. 'Run!' she tells me," Cole filled in in his hurried way, "the templar snarls. An angered dog. He bites. His sword rips her flesh and she screams, but I run."

Naomi looked down at her hands. With an expert twist of her fingers she produced a tiny flame, like that of a candle. She passed it across the back of her knuckles like a coin, heaving a long breath from her chest. "Not all the templars wanted us dead. Avery, and a few of his friends, got some of us out. I don't know what happened to them. If they were caught, they would be killed. I hope they were clever enough to get away."

"Avery was kind," mumbled Cole, more to himself than her.

"And it probably ended his life," Naomi stood, moving to her bed, beginning to arrange the blankets and pillows.

"You don't trust most templars," Cole said, watching her passively from the chair. "That's why you wanted them here. Why you sided with them and placed them under the Inquisition's rule. So you could watch them. Control them as you had been controlled."

Naomi turned from her work, giving Cole a scrutinizing look. His expression was so sincere. Without malice, nor any hint of mockery. She folded her arms, feeling revealed. Torn open so he could see her delicate insides. But that was the way it went with Cole. "I suppose so," she said.

"You were too bright before," the boy said, after a moment. "When we first met. I couldn't sense your pain. A wall of light kept me from you. Now I can see."

"Perhaps it is because you're more human now?" Naomi asked. She crossed to the chair and held out her arms. "Alright, Cole. It looks as though you're staying the night. I'm not dragging your sickly self back to your rooms and you can't sleep in my chair in your state. You shall have my bed. I'll take the chair."

"You wanted to be alone tonight," Cole said, not taking her hands. His brows came together with concern.

"I did. But not any more," she said, giving him a genuine smile. As much as she hated to admit it, most of all to herself, it was nice to have the company of someone who understood her completely, without judgment, and without her having to explain herself. The revelation that he had been unable to read her pain or memories before now intrigued the intellectual part of her mind. The part that made her an excellent mage, far more than raw power or innate skill. "Come on," she coaxed, still extending her hands to him.

Cole finally took them. He stood, letting the quilt fall to the floor then she staggered and leaned against her, "the rooms gone all spinny," he muttered, gripping her arm.

"That's called being dizzy. It's common when you're ill," she reassured him as she moved slowly towards the bed. She lowered him gently onto the mattress. "Easy now," she said, not even thinking about her words. "I've got you." She tucked the blankets in around his chin and went back for the quilt, spreading it over him.

"You need the quilt," Cole protested.

"I have a spare blanket in my wardrobe I'll use," she reassured him. Then, without thought, she sat down beside him and began stroking his hair. She wasn't certain why she did it. Had the tranquil, Caleb, done it for her when she was sick in the tower? Had her mother in a time before she could remember.

Cole was looking a bit dreamy as she gently brushed his golden hair with her fingertips, feeling the unwelcome warmth of the fever on his skin. "You think that you're not kind," the boy said, very quietly. Almost too quietly for her to hear had the room not been so still. Not even the song of a night-bird invaded. "You think that to be kind is to be weak. That it will get you killed, like Eva or Avery. But you are kind, and strong. You can be both." And with those words he closed his red-rimmed eyes and fell asleep.

Naomi sat for a long moment, pondering the boy's words and softly petting his hair back from his wan face. She deiced that it was her mother. Her mother stroking her hair as she fell asleep. Back when her dark tresses had been long a straight. Now she kept them short, trim, out of the way. Ever since she had accidentally lit her own braid aflame during a training session and a nearby templar and become very alarmed. Still, she recalled the motion, and her mother's gentle voice, singing. Naomi didn't dare sing. She didn't want to wake the boy, and she suspected she had none of her mother's talent for it. But she did hum, low and soft. A few verses of the song they had sung at Haven. Of how the dawn would come.

She finally stepped back, retiring to the chair with a blanket and another book. She kept shooting glances at Cole, slumbering in her bed, ensuring that he wanted for nothing. She sighed, a smile tugging the corners of her mouth. Perhaps she was an old softie after all. She was careful to keep that side of herself concealed, but here at Skyhold it showed itself more and more. Perhaps Cole was right, she pondered. Perhaps it was possible to be both strong and kind. Further experimentation was needed. She almost laughed at the thought. She set her book aside, rubbed her own sleepy eyes, and allowed herself to drift away in her big chair beside the crackling fire.

****Well, there you have it. *Goes back to working on 'Old Gods'* I hope it was enjoyable. It was certainly interesting to write. It was going to originally be a rather different tale, and focus more on Cole, but this it what it became. I finally got my copy of DA Asunder in the mail, so once I give that a read maybe I'll feel more confident writing more about Cole's backstory. In the mean time feel free to comment, and even tell me the tale of your inquisitor's life for the inquisition :)****


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